"What can we do?" she cried.
Andrew scrutinized her carefully. She might be fibbing; she might be up to some of her tricks again; this might even be a move arranged with his father. One could not be too prudent.
"What do you propose to do?" he asked.
"Bring him to his senses if it's possible: if not—Oh, Andrew, his conduct is infamous! I don't care what we do to punish—I mean to restrain him."
At last, after many days' abstinence, the junior partner smiled. It was not a very wide, nor in the least a merry smile; his cheeks bulged only slightly under its gentle pressure, and the satisfaction which smiles traditionally notify seemed savored with a squeeze or two of lemon. But it marked the beginning of a new coalition, an ominous disturbance of the balance of power.
"That is exactly the point I have under consideration myself," he said. "The difficulty is, how is it to be managed?"
She seated herself within twelve feet of him, and yet he did not shrink from her now with modest mistrust.
"It seems to me perfectly obvious what we should do. Just offer him an alternative."
"What alternative?" asked Andrew.